Without You
by Handsome Awkward
Summary: Everyone is seeing dead people. Dead person. House.
1. Death

A/N: This is a new story I came up with. Had the idea floating around in my head for a while. Here it is.

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Dead.

He was dead. Truly and utterly dead.

Dead.

They couldn't believe it.

It had happened so suddenly. The last thing they'd seen of him was when he decided to finally leave work at a quarter 'til twelve. They had been working on a case. A woman with bipolar disorder who passed out in grocery store. That was as far as they had gotten to. Bi polar disorder. It seemed so simple.

Then she started to have seizures and that is what provoked him to stay longer than he should've. He was sitting in his office watching his screen saver blink 'Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital' trying to think of something, anything, that would've caused the woman to go into a seizure.

"Well." He mumbled to himself. "Well. Well."

It wasn't coming. It wasn't coming to him at all. He usually got sparks late at night that told him what was going on in the never-the-same human body.

That's when she walked by his office. Right when he leaned back in his chair and mumbled. So she walked in. Completely unaware that he was trying to visualize the process that was happening in this woman's body.

"Have you gotten anything yet?" She asked rubbing her hands together.

He practically snapped his neck in half turning at her angrily. "No, otherwise I would be running tests or CURING her!" He stood up abruptly and grabbed his bag from under his desk, "Get out of my way." He muttered to the blond that was standing directly in the doorway. She didn't budge. "You don't work for me anymore Dr. Cameron. I don't take your shit anymore. Right? Get. Out. Of. My. Way." He said with his voice full of venom.

She flinched at his vulgar attitude and stepped aside. "Still the same old pushover." He muttered limping past her.

She shot daggers at his back, because God knew she couldn't do it to his face at the moment. He limped faster and angrier than normal, getting the attention of the few people in the darkened hallways.

When he was in the elevator he sighed and leaned his head against the back wall.

His motorcycle was sitting their…lonely…in his spot. His spot. He climbed up on it and started the, in Wilson's terms, "Death Machine".

Once he was out of the parking lot he sped up a great deal. Flying down the empty roads with a grace only a motorcycle could give. He relished in the wind on his face and was extremely grateful that his day was finally over.

He got home and shut the door lightly as he pulled himself tiredly to his couch. Once he grabbed the remote and stretched out onto the leather the phone started to ring.

He reached to answer it and quoted a Stephen King book, "'s that you, John Wayne?" He said monotonously.

"House?" Wilson's voice came through the line. "House? Are you there?"

"Yes. What?"

"Nothing. I just… I just wanted to see if you were good." He said calming down a great deal.

"Wow. Thank you, James." He stated rolling his eyes.

He crossed his legs at the ankles and folded his pillow over to get more comfortable. He finally got to turn his television on and was introduced to an episode of Behind the Music about John Wayne. Huh. How's that for irony?

"No, I just…I had a feeling."

"I'm great. Don't worry. There are butterflies dancing around in my living room believe me, I'm just peachy."

"Good. Um…alright well…I guess I'll go. Julie's waiting."

"Woah, hey, you're back with Julie?"

Wilson smiled to himself, "Yes. We've decided to try again."

"Wow. That was almost…romantic. Bye Jimmy Boy." House said with a smirk.

"Bye House." Wilson rolled his eyes and turned off the phone still smiling at his friend's way of calming him down.

House threw the phone somewhere behind him and rolled himself to sit up. He stood up on wobbly legs…God was he tired. He limped across the room to his desk and pulled open the top drawer. After fumbling around for a bit he finally found what he was looking for. Ah yes…Marlboro. He pulled out one of the cigarettes and put it in his mouth. He found that odd. He only smoked when he was truly and utterly angry at someone. He wasn't angry at anyone. It confused him.

That call confused him. The television show confused him. And most of all the damn diagnosis confused him. He absolutely hated to be confused. The cigarette was hanging loosely in his mouth as he looked around for a lighter.

He hated not finding lighters when he needed them. He always came across them when he wasn't looking for them…but when he felt he needed it the most it was, of course, not there.

He was frustrated. That's what it was. He was absolutely frustrated.

And guess what? He hated being frustrated.

"Damn it." He muttered under his breath. It seemed like that was all he was doing lately, muttering. That also frustrated him. Talking to himself. Damn.

He hated talking to himself.

He looked around him not looking for anything and then headed toward the kitchen. He turned on the stove that he rarely used and stuck the end of the 'cancer stick' to it. He sucked in a breath and lit the cigarette. Feeling the smoke run down his throat brought back that wonderful feeling of calm. He missed his smokes.

He grasped the small tube of tobacco between his fingers and sucked in a deep breath and out a small ring that eventually developed into a larger circle. He missed blowing smoke rings.

That thought brought him back to his times with Stacey. He hated Stacey. Okay didn't actually _hate _her but…he didn't like her that much.

"Well. She cheated on me." he smirked to himself as he took another breath of cancer causing smoke.

_Did she really?_

"yes. She very much did."

_Sure. Maybe you're just going crazy…you are talking to yourself._

"Whatever." He flicked his ashes into the sink and leaned against the counter. "I do not talk to myself." He said frowning and taking another puff of the gradually shortening cigarette.

He needed to go for a drive. Clear his mind. He threw cigarette into the sink after another long drag and ran some water onto it. After watching a moment as it swelled he turned away and limped to the living room. He grabbed his jacket, keys and helmet and headed out the door.

Maybe that was the wrong decision. Maybe he shouldn't have taken a drive at twelve thirty in the morning. Maybe he should've been concerned that he seemed to be talking to himself. Maybe he should even be concerned at all the coincidences that seemed to be happening but he wasn't. He ignored it and mounted his bike for the third time that day.

The cool crisp air felt nice against his face. He again relished in the wind blowing through his clothes as he sped down the street.

That's when it hit him.

Literally hit him.

His tire blew. He skidded down the street with an angry screech. It was deserted. Nothing but road and guard rails. He slammed into the said guard rail and his bike did a flip. A flip he didn't exactly want to discover could happen. He levered himself off but realized the ground below him was not a ground at all. It was water. Unfortunately the December air had dropped the temperature of the water he was about to land into and he was just anticipating the pinpricks of harsh cold water on him.

He landed with a splash and took in a breath. He swallowed water. The feeling was intense and horrifying. He couldn't believe what was happening. The freezing water entered his lungs and he watched as the dark blue water turned white. He struggled to make it to the top but his tired arms and the shock of the situation felt like ten pounds had been laid atop him.

He kicked his throbbing leg then his other viscously trying to get to the top. He could see the waves of water at the top reflecting the moonlight and stars. He kept trying to make it to the top. He was trying so hard.

_This is what you get…you didn't see the signs. They were right in front of you and you didn't see any of them. Maybe you'll pay attention next time._

He panicked for the last time and shut his eyes as the oxygen left his lungs and water filled them. Darkness surrounded him, and he was in a quiet world of nothingness.

-----------------------------

"Yeah?" Wilson asked to the knocking on his door.

"Dr. Wilson, I have few people out here and I'd like you to identify a body…if you wouldn't mind." Wilson looked up from his paperwork confused and stood up to open the door. An officer was on the other side and he gestured toward the small crowd of the people he sees daily. "We usually don't have this many people to identify someone…but this guy seemed important so we needed everyone we could who could possibly know him personally. We think it was a suicide attempt." He said sadly as he led the group down the stairs and toward the morgue.

Once in the cool room they stood around the small table that held the mystery body.

The officer pulled back the white sheet and everyone in the group let out a gasp. The gray face, the dark closed eyelids, the blue lips…Gregory House was dead.

Dead.

TBC

If reviews are able to make me want to continue it.


	2. I'm seeing dead people

A/N: Hope you enjoy (the few reviewers that decided to read :) ) Thanks for the inspiration to continue.

Disclaimer: don't own.

Wilson ran out of the morgue…he couldn't be there. He couldn't breathe in there. God, just seeing him…it made him…

He ran into the men's room. The toilet seemed so far away but he made it. His insides burned as he dry-heaved his way into an empty stomach. Finally he was done throwing up everything he ever ate in the history of his entire life. He leaned back against the white bricks of the bathroom stall and let out a breath. He felt like his lungs were going to pop. He couldn't believe this was happening.

_Without you. The ground thaws…the rain falls, the grass grows_

_------_

It had been a year. An entire year and things had gotten back to normal. If you could call it normal.

Wilson dealt with his patients and was with a new woman, Cameron and Chase were engaged, Cuddy had a steady boyfriend and kept her hospital running, and Foreman was in charge of the Diagnostics wing.

It was better. Everyone forgot.

Things had changed for the better, Vogler had come back but was a lot more gracious since House wasn't around. The hospital was still running and people were still getting sick, getting cured, and going on with their lives.

It was better.

------

"James, come to bed." a small voice came from his bedroom.

"One minute." he called as he stared at his reflection. He rubbed his face with the palm of his hands and sighed. Something was off.

Melanie noticed it. She always commented on how tired he looked, and how suspicious he was acting.

Truth be told, he was angry. Angry at House for driving at one o'clock in the morning, angry at himself for not calling to check on him, angry at the hospital for dismissing him like he was just some epidemic that had conveniently been cured.

He was angry at his fiancé for not understanding him even though it wasn't her fault.

It was why he drank that first glass of Scotch. He never liked it. His dad had given him a drink of it when he was a teenager saying "That stuff'll makes you wanna' slap you're momma."

The kick was ridiculous. He had always stuck to the simple alcohol; wine, beer, occasional vodka mix…not as strong.

But he'd started drinking it about ten months ago. Not much. A sip at a time. A sip turned into a glass, a glass turned into two until he was where he was at now…a bottle in a day. An entire bottle of the "momma slappin'" scotch a day and it did no harm. He was used to it. Had adapted to the strong, raw alcohol.

"James…please?"

He sighed again and turned the light off in his bathroom. Her voice annoyed him tonight. He wasn't sure why but he just felt she needed to be quiet for once.

He hummed slightly and climbed into bed behind her. His arm wrapped around her instinctively. "Sorry, I was…getting ready."

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath." She said disappointedly.

"Yes, I wanted a drink before I went to sleep. Is that okay? My freedom?" He asked with a scowl. He turned away from her and closed his eyes. She sighed and closed her eyes as well.

"I'm sorry, I'm just…going through some stuff."

"Okay." She said gently and that was it. That's how his nights went. Every night it was the same thing. The same conversation. He was living a terrible life and he couldn't even accept it. Just covered it up with "I'm going through some stuff."

It was ridiculous.

"That is ridiculous." He heard a whisper of a familiar voice. He opened his eyes and almost jumped out of his skin.

"H- House?" He stuttered, remembering his speech impediment from his grade school years all of a sudden. His familiar smirk came across his face.

"You shouldn't be drinking like that."

"But you.."

"I am no reason to drink. I didn't do anything that could've helped you. I was burden."

Seeing House admit his faults was new. This had to be a dream. He was definitely dreaming.

"No." He said smirking.

"No, what?" Wilson asked, confused.

"You're not dreaming."

"I…" this couldn't be happening. It could NOT be happening.

"You're respected too much to become an alcoholic."

"I'm not an alcoholic." He protested frustrated.

"Don't give me that, Wilson. I know you. You're in denial. Get over it. Get over me." He said lying down beside him.

Wilson turned toward the figure that should not be there.

"This is crazy…Just…get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head. I'm here to warn you. You're going to destroy yourself." He said calmly.

"This is not happening….just please…let me sleep."

House sighed and let Wilson fall asleep.

----

Wilson woke up at a quarter 'till eight. He looked around his room for the offending "ghost". He didn't see him and smiled in relief. Melanie woke up to him moving.

"Hey." She smiled giving him a small kiss.

"Hey." He said gently.

"You're in a good mood."

"I had a weird dream last night…I'm just glad it's over."

"What was it about?" She asked with concern evident in her voice.

"nothing…I don't remember."

She looked at him sadly and rolled out of bed.

He got dressed and they went on with their lives.

Just like every other day. And that is what convinced Wilson it was all a dream. He was just experiencing some weirdness due to the alcohol. It was over.

---

Cuddy looked up almost annoyed at the group gathered in her office.

"Cancer?" she asked incredulous.

"Yes, we think she has a tumor in her lung." Foreman informed looking over at Wilson who looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

He was a little late when he responded and it was noticed by the rest of the people in the office, "It could be…benign." He said groggily, stating the obvious.

"Yes, every tumor could be benign." Cameron stated slowly looking at the older man cautiously.

"You know it's not cancer." A voice came from behind him.

He slowly turned his head to where the noise was coming from, trying to not to catch attention.

"Don't you?" House asked, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankle.

"Yes." He stated.

Everyone looked at him. "What?" Chase asked, he didn't know why he was here, Cameron had dragged him down for a consult but he didn't know why he was there.

Wilson ignored them.

"What do you think it is?" House asked smirking.

"I don't know." He sighed dropping his head. "Just go." he said quietly, gaining stares from the group.

"I don't want to."

"Why can't you just leave me the hell alone!" He yelled standing up.

"Wow. Now you've got a crowd." house pointed toward the stares of the people in the office.

Wilson turned slightly and saw the confused, concerned faces of his colleagues.

He turned back to give House a piece of his mind only to find the wall holding nothing but a picture frame.

TBC


	3. Cold Chills

**Wow. So I decided to update this story after very many years because of mynamemattersnot, thanks for the support. I'm trying to get into the swing of writing again and I really apologize for not being on top of things. College does that to ya :D. But here it is chapter three. I hope everyone enjoys and thank you for your reviews, even thought it's been a while you have no idea how happy those make me.**

**Here we go, and I don't own anything.**

The group stared wide-eyed at Wilson's outburst. Cuddy was the first to speak up. "Are you okay?"

Wilson looked at her, wide-eyed himself. "I- I don't know." He stated honestly.

Everyone was worried. "What…was that?" Foreman asked, shocked.

Wilson took a deep breath, "I think I just need some air."

"Aiiiir." he heard the voice again. The fucking voice that made him want to throw something.

Wilson looked behind him to see House smirking. He turned back to the group of doctors still staring at him. "Just to be clear, you guys don't see anything, do you?"

"OF COURSE THEY DON'T, YOU MORON!" House yelled, "I'm here to warn you, not them. Their fine. You are the one who is fucking everything up. You are the one who is making yourself crazy. Remember? Remember all of those ridiculous speeches you gave me? Remember how you told me how pathetic I was? Guess what? You are doing the exact same thing."

Wilson shook his head, looked down at his feet and rubbed his face as he listened to House's speech and everyone in the office giving him incredulous 'no's' in answer to his question.

Damn, he really was going insane. Completely insane. He apologized to everyone and left Cuddy's office, heading to his own. Not surprised in the least when House was sitting in his chair playing with the gifts sitting on his desk.

"You know…I've been thinking. You're not upset that I'm dead. I feel like everyone came to terms with that. You are upset that you weren't there to make sure I didn't do something stupid. I'll clarify things for you. I didn't do anything stupid." House didn't look up from the rubix cube that he was solving as he analyzed his friend.

"I'm just hallucinating. I've been lacking sleep and you are not here."

"Yeah, that's how it starts." House made a spooky sound trying to make himself more "ghostlike", obviously making all of this into a joke.

"This isn't funny you son of a bitch."

"Woah! Calm down, my mother is a lovely woman."

"House. Get out."

"Of your office?"

"Out of my life!"

"Hmph." House looked at him, with a fake sad look, "I thought we were friends. Best friends, according to your eulogy."

"Don't you dare bring up your funeral."

"Why not?" House smiled, "I'm dead, I can do what I want. Hell, I did what I wanted when I was alive."

"This isn't easy for me." Wilson sighed in defeat, sitting across from his desk. "I lost the one person that was the closest to me. I lost my best friend."

"Well, I'm here now. Dead as I may be." House said looking down, uncomfortable. He looked up quickly with a smirk, "I was just kidding too, I'm not a ghost. I'm a vampire! And listen, as much as those stories make us out to be, they are wrong. I can totally eat garlic and I'm not afraid of any onions."

"House! This isn't a JOKE!"

"Alright, alright." He put his hands up in surrender. "Forgive me for having a little fun in my afterlife. Sheesh."

"How am I supposed to deal with my dead friend on a daily basis? Obviously, I cannot control my outbursts. I've just proven that."

"Hmm. I really can't tell you how to deal with this. A. Because, I'm kind of dead. And B. this is just something that you need to figure out by yourself. Actually, I take that back. I think I pretty much bluntly told you how to get rid of me. Stop losing yourself. Stop drinking. That's about it." House shrugged as if this was an everyday thing.

"Right. Let me guess, God sent you here to help change me."

House let out a loud laugh. "Pah-lease! Give me some credit here. I mean, I was able to make myself visible to you. Shit, I think that's a huge feat that you can't really give God credit for. Do you even believe in God anymore?"

Wilson shook his head. "I can deal with you. As long as you don't mess around with my head."

House looked at him, confused. " When have I ever been known to mess with people's heads? That's just wrong." Wilson tried to stop the smirk, but House already caught it. "Besides, I haven't figured out all the tricks of the undead yet. Give me time, grasshopper."

"Will anyone else get to see you?" Wilson asked, starting to get comfortable with the freakiest thing he's ever seen in his life. Funny what you get used to.

"I can haunt Cuddy and man friend if you want." House smiled evilly.

"As much as you would enjoy that, I think you should only be able to traumatize one person at a time."

"That's Wilson alright, always a damper on my fun." House slumped in Wilson's seat and dropped the rubix cube, finished, onto his desk.

"Can I get to work now?"

"Pft. Like you actually do your job anymore." House rolled his eyes and sighed when Wilson gave him that annoying look, and got up from his desk. Just as they switched seats, someone knocked on the door.

Wilson looked at House pointedly, telling him not to open his mouth with his eyes as he yelled, "Come in!"

Cameron walked in timidly and sat down when Wilson gestured for her to do so. She was right next to House, who was looking back and forth between her and Wilson.

She took a deep breath and gave him a sad look, House rolled his eyes and Wilson cleared his throat. "Is there something you need, Allison?"

She nodded, and cleared her own throat, " I just. I understand that you are still hurting from…House's…his…well, his…"

"Death?"

She nodded, showing her nerves.

"It's okay to say 'death' and 'House' around me. I'm not going to break in two." House snorted and Wilson tried to blink him away.

"I don't want you to think that I'm trying to pry, but I'm here if you want to talk. It's something that, well, that needs to be talked about."

"I appreciate everything that you're trying to do, Cameron, but-" Wilson stopped when Cameron visibly shivered. "What's wrong?"

She looked at him with fear in her eyes. "Something is off in here. I just got a cold chill. I don't know. I can't explain it."

She turned her head to where House was sitting and didn't stifle her fearful scream.


	4. I need your help

**So, this is two updates in one day because as a reviewer clearly stated, I owe you guys. :D. So enjoy...**

**Thanks again for the support even after I disappeared.**

Wilson shushed Cameron as quickly as he could and he practically fell on his face as he ran around the desk to calm her down. She looked like she'd just seen…a ghost. Wilson smirked at his lame thought. He looked at her and she was pointing a shaky finger at House, who was sitting there as if it was normal to in Wilson's office a year after his death.

"Wha- I - He-…" She couldn't breathe.

"Calm down. Allison, seriously, calm down. We can't call attention to this."

"YOU-you see him?" She asked, staring incredulously at Wilson, and looking back quickly at House, who just waved.

"Yes. And you have no idea how glad I am that you can see him too." Wilson sighed in relief sitting down on the edge of his desk.

"I wish you would stop talking about me as if I'm dead. Oh…wait." House said looking away. "How embarrassing."

"How-when…I just, I don't understand." She was still flustered, on edge. Who could expect her not to be? She just saw a dead man.

"I don't know. He doesn't know. Well, he probably does, but it's House, so I don't really know if he knows." Wilson was just as flustered and Cameron but he was more relieved that he wasn't in this alone.

"He's dead. You are dead." She said to him.

"God! Way to rub it in my face." House pretended to be offended by her accusation.

"How is this happening. I'm going crazy." She was too unnerved to understand how Wilson was so calm.

"If you are going crazy, then so am I. I've been seeing him for a few days now."

"But why?"

"You have to stop asking why Cameron, it's really getting annoying." House stated adjusting his shirt.

"The team are still in Cuddy's office, we have to tell them." Cameron was being insane as usual, and Wilson grabbed her arm before she left the room to do something stupid.

"You and I both know that none of them are going to believe us."

"But they can see him too. I'm sure."

"No one saw him when he was yelling at me fifteen minutes ago, did they?"

The realization hit her, "That's who you were talking to?"

"Of course. Who else? Seriously, think about it. We walk into that office and say what? Hey, just so you guys know, House is here and he has an opinion on what we should do about the patient, by the way he can dematerialize and oh yeah! He's dead!" Wilson saw House smirk a bit, "How well would that go over?"

Cameron calmed herself down and she sat, defeated. "What do we do then?"

"Seriously?" House chimed in once again, "You don't have to ignore me. I'm right here."

"Shut up!" Wilson said, then he looked back at Cameron, "I don't know why he's here and I don't know how to get rid of him. He just showed up."

"Okay, so what? We act like everything is normal, and then what?"

"I'm trying to figure that out myself. Just go back to Cuddy's office, tell everyone I got sick from some Chinese food or something and I was hallucinating, but I'll be fine. I'm going to figure this out."

The moment she agreed and they looked in House's direction, he was gone.

Cameron walked into said office, confused and anxious. Chase almost ran to her side when he saw how pale she was.

"Are you okay?" He asked, putting his hand to her head.

" I'm fine." She brushed it off, "I just got light headed is all. Wilson wanted me to tell you guys that he's feeling ill from some Chinese food that he ate last night. He may have to go home."

Cuddy nodded concerned, "He was hallucinating?"

"Yeah, but he's going to get some rest."

"And you are okay?" Cuddy asked, reinstating that Cameron was acting odd herself.

"I'm fine. My blood sugar is probably just a little low." She breathed a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Okay, well, then just get back to work. All of you. Maybe when you get done with the tests you can rule out cancer." Cuddy got rid of the team and let them get back to their jobs. There was no use waiting on Wilson if he had food poisoning and she didn't want to risk this woman's life just because of a theory.

Once the team left and Cuddy was left by herself again, she resumed the paperwork that needed to be done before she went home tonight. She'd get it done, she would just have to focus and not get distracted by any outside issues. She took a deep breath and looked back into her computer screen.

Her heart stopped a moment when she heard something move across the room. She looked up and saw nothing, and laughed her stupidity off. She went back to typing when something she couldn't miss came into her peripheral.

When she turned to her left, a scream caught halfway up her throat. She was at a loss for words. And air.

"Well, at least you didn't scream like Cameron did. Even a dead man shouldn't hear that screech." House widened his eyes for emphases.

Her eyes looked like they would pop out of her head and she suddenly felt extremely faint. And woozy.

"Don't have a cow. It's not like you've never seen me before." He smiled at her.

"How- how?"

"Don't think you're getting it right, an owl says: who."

"You- you're here. But-I don't-"

"Is this the reaction I get after a year of being gone? Every single time I show up somewhere everyone freaks out and drops something, or stops breathing, or in Cameron's case makes everyone around her go deaf." He grimaced at the memory, "It hurts my feelings a bit."

"You- you're dead. H-House" she hesitated, she couldn't believe she was talking to a dead person. He was right there!

"Don't think you're special. I went to Wilson first. But, I need your help with something. Cameron turned me off from asking her with all the damn screaming."

"I- I'm going crazy." her voice was a few octaves higher and she shook her head as if to get rid of him by willing him out.

"I wont disagree with that." He nodded. "But, you can deny it all you want, I'm here. You can even touch me. I think. I'm not really sure how this dead thing works yet. Anyway, back to that favor…will you help me or not?"

"Help you with what?" She asked slowly, thinking hard about what she was seeing, what she was saying and to whom she was saying it to.

"Well, I have a plan. See? First, I need you to keep an eye out on Wilson. He drinks himself into a stupor every night. Not that you are dealing with my death very healthily either, ignoring me and whatnot. It's kind of rude. But, it's James who is taking it the hardest. I need you to make sure he doesn't end up killing himself…pardon the pun. I realize how insane this sounds, and looks, but it's true."

"He's drinking? How bad is it?" No matter what she was seeing and how crazy it was, he seemed concerned and dead or not, that was unlike him.

"Bad. He's got Julie, but she isn't going to stay long if he keeps it up. Just try and talk to him. I did and I'm sure he wanted to punch me, but he has enough respect to not treat the dead that way."

Cuddy's mind was reeling, and all of a sudden a realization hit her, and she abruptly got pissed. "You've been spying on me?"

"What?" House asked, confused with her change of pace.

"You've been spying on me, seeing how I've reacted to your death?"

"Really, Lisa? That's what you're worried about when someone who's been dead for a year is standing here talking to you? You're right, maybe you are crazy." House rolled his eyes. "Anywho, I need to get going. I've got places to go, people to haunt…you know…dead stuff."

And just like that he was gone. She was stunned, so stunned that she packed up her paperwork into her briefcase and put her coat on to go home and take a long hot shower. She was going to try and forget what just happened.

Foreman sat at House's former computer in House's former office and did House's former job while the rest of the team was doing tests for their newest patient. He was annoyed at how weird everyone was acting and he just wanted to get this done.

Ever since House died, Foreman has been trying to compensate for the genius. He had always thought he was better than House and in the one year that he'd had the man's job he realized just how much of genius said doctor was. He'd lost four patience already, due to being to slow with the diagnosis, but he was slowly coming into his own. He was draining himself because of those deaths and slowly, this job was getting to him. No matter how good he thought he was getting, even he couldn't deny that he was slowly losing himself in the process. A sudden respect for Gregory House hit him and he never thought that day would come. He always knew House was good, he just had no idea why the man was an asshole all the time. The light showed through when he lost his first patient and it kept getting brighter and brighter just recently.

There was no way that he was going to prove anyone in this hospital right by failing. He had to show them that he was just as good as House, no matter how long it took him.

"Interesting." a voice, a very loud clear voice, jolted Foreman from his paperwork. He looked around frantically for a moment before shaking his head. _I'm more tired than I thought. _

"You know that's not true." The voice spoke again.

Foreman almost jumped out of his skin when he looked up and House was sitting right across from him. His eyes widened and he could feel his stomach do a somersault in fear.

" I like what you've done with the place, Eric. Very nice." House nodded in approval at all the changes that were made to his office. "How long did it take you to move yourself in here? A week after I died? Two weeks? A day? An hour? I know how much you wanted it."

"What the fu-" Foreman jumped out of the chair, he figured standing may give him some sort of advantage over the figment of his imagination in front of him.

"Now, now. Calm down. I'm not trying to get my job back. Even if I am the best, well _first _diagnostician there was. I don't think the board would appreciate a dead guy running the department. Much less a dead me."

Foreman turned away from the man, feeling nauseous. Maybe this job really was getting to him.

"You'd think that wouldn't you? Maybe that's why I got hooked on pills? Cause this job was so stressful. Well that's a fat 'no'. I was damn good at my job even before the pills. Dumbass."

" You aren't here." Foreman said with a disbelieving smile, he was even talking to himself now. That's just great.

" You're right. I'm not here. I don't explain why Wilson got "food poisoning" or why Cameron came back paler than usual. I haven't been seen by anybody else. You can ask Cuddy, oh, actually I think she went home because she's thinking exactly what you are."

"What…are you doing here?" Foreman was damned and determined to keep his cool.

"I've come to kill you, Foreman."


End file.
